Incantation
by Joelcoxriley
Summary: After Malefor's slaying, the Dutchy of Bavaria is reeling and struggling to recover in the beast's wake. Ember, to her horror, has found herself to become human. Desiring to go back to her draconic form, and struggling to adapt to a foreign body and society, it is not long before whispers plague the winds. Whispers that claim she is a witch. *Sequel to Dishonored*


**I decided Dishonored finally needed a sequel. Yay? Rating may go up to Mature, depending.**

**Several things to note about my stories: I never plan anything. Ever. Because when I do, the characters have different plans whilst I write them, and my plans never happen anyway. I write in the moment, and thus, what feels natural by instinct. If I force chapters or characters, it feels very unnatural to me. It felt like Dishonored took at least five years for me to write, because I kept on trying to force chapters out, and rewriting them, or completely deleting them because the writing process didn't feel real/natural to me. It felt like five years, but the story only took like two years to finish, which I am rather happy about.**

**I do not have a reliable updating schedule, but I don't think this story will be as dire/intense as Dishonored, arguably, was. I imagine it will be slower, since it will mainly focus upon Ember physically, mentally, and emotionally adjusting to a different physical form, adjusting to a completely different lifestyle, and new beliefs and threats stemmed from said beliefs.**

**I am also a person who hates 98% of what I write. I don't know why. I just do, perhaps because I feel I can write better, but just don't. That being said, I generally dislike Dishonored :D**

**The only stories I bother to write anymore/update is Dynasties (Jurassic Park/World story), Duality (A co authored Elder Scrolls/Skyrim RP turned story-an example of one of my best emotional writing skills, I believe), and various crappy Kingdom of Heaven one shots.**

**And this story, of course! :D**

**Regardless, thank you for checking this story out, and putting up with my crappy works. If you haven't read Dishonored, you may want to, just to ensure you understand everything that is going on.**

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Human.

She was human.

Such a familiar word with a foreign meaning that danced along the Duke's tongue as the simple statement turned into poison upon reaching Ember's ears.

Human?

Ha! What a joke! A jest!

What a clever jest the human Duke elicited! A most obvious jest, for humans could not be dragons whilst dragons could not be humans! 'Twas that simple a notion, his words were funny!

And thus, Ember's response was most unexpected to the nobleman yet adorned in chainmail caked in blood and dirt and soot from dragon fire. Most unexpected to the nobleman, indeed, for Ember's actions caused William's brow to crease in worry and mold his brunette beard with greying hairs into a frown.

Ember laughed.

Her laugh was soft, at first, as if the gentle trickling of a crick over smooth, oval shaped rocks molded by the water's current. Her laugh bolstered into a higher pitch, breath forcibly leaving her lungs as her body heaved with her ever deepening breathes. Her fair skin flushed a rosy hue that adorned her cheeks and began to spread to her nose and ears she was laughing with such force, her eyes the color of the ocean blue beginning to glisten as soft mist began to water her lashes, threatening to fall over the brim and spill forth down her reddened face. Strands of soft pink that gently glistened against a nearby fire flowed with the force of her guffaws, caressing her face and cascading down her shoulders.

It was then, when Ember found herself winded and out of breath, her body hurting from the sheer force of her laughing, that she did, indeed cease her actions.

When she did, she found that she could breathe again.

Ah, the human Duke was funny.

William was funny.

Huh...why did she feel something...light, smothering, fluttering upon her head? Odd. She did not remember that feeling from before. What-What was this soft pink, fur like-or was it straw like?-strand that tickled her face? It was annoying! Why did her horns feel so light? And...And...

Why could Ember not feel her wings?

Or her tail?

Why could...

Ember felt her face pale, an almost sickly pallor now upon her fair skin as her gaze flicked to the Duke, as if asking for confirmation or that of guidance. Fear shown dominant in her eyes, which were wide and white in her unspoken terror.

She saw the answer within the shadows of the Duke's face.

He was not joking.

He was not jesting.

She was...

Ember could not say it, could not even think to finish the thought. She could not bring herself to make it more _real_.

But when she happened to look upon her paws and taloned fingers-nay-her _hands_ and _nailed fingers_-it became _real_.

What she looked upon was not the familiar paws of her own, but of the hands of an alien creature-a beast-a monster-a...-

Ember didn't understand. These paws-hands-were not her own-where were her hands-paws!

Where were her pink scaled paws, think and strong with muscular fingers and majestic talons? What-What was this? What was this thing she was looking upon that lacked any scales, but had soft, pink-pale flesh, so soft and squishy? What was this thing that sported thin, feminine looking fingers and flat, dull nails of a pinkish hue with white ends?

These were not dragon hands-paws! They were-they were-

Ember still could not finish that thought.

Not when she felt herself break out into a cold sweat, looking upon the trembling, sweaty palms that were not hers, yet were. Not when she felt her heart thumping so hard and swift against her chest she thought it would burst. Not when she felt like she could not breathe, for there was a weight, a tightness within her chest. Not when the world seemed to be dizzy and spinning, and everything seemed to be caving in around her, confining her and closing in around her. Not when a loud ringing resounded, relentless within her ears and splitting her skull, drowning out every other sound around her.

The woman's breathing became ragged and strained, her vision beginning to blur and strain.

Panic set in as Ember found all her senses assaulted, a numb, trembling hand reaching out towards the Duke, her eyes wide in terror as she tried to call out for help.

Ember didn't even register the large hand that was rubbing against the small of her back through the blanket covering her bare flesh, the man already there, attempting to soothe the dragon-or rather-woman, "Shhh. It is all right. Close your eyes and put your head between your legs. That will help."

The pink haired woman found herself still struggling to breathe, ears resuming to ring and the aftermath of the war torn land still spinning around her, closing in, "H...ha...hap..."

Ember didn't know what to do! She couldn't entirely hear William over the ringing, but she did hear him say something about closing her eyes. Thus, the woman did just that, and prayed for the Ancestors to help her.

William resumed to rub the small of Ember's back as her breathing began to calm. Slowly, ever so slowly, the tingling, numbing of her hands died down, as did the ringing of her ears, the blurring of her vision, the spinning and caving of the world around her, and the weight upon her chest seemed to melt away.

Slowly, cautiously, Ember opened her eyes, lids no longer tightly shut. Everything was just...gone. It was as if that...whatever that was...never happened.

The only thing she felt was William lightly patting her shoulder, "Are you well?"

Ember tried to speak, though still found her voice weak. The woman only nodded slightly in response.

A soft snort was released by the nobleman, before he turned towards a section of debris Ember was currently not sitting upon. Bending down slightly, the brunette picked up a wooden bowl of soul, lead spoon within, "Here. You should eat something, before it gets too cold. It is good for you." Wiliam spoke, holding out the bowl for the woman to take.

Ember did not seem to fully register the offer, despite her eyes flicking towards the wooden bowl. Her oceanic gaze, if distant, fell upon the offering, then to the Duke's concerned face. Slowly, her trembling hands raised to take the bowl, which she clamped upon the curved sloped sides. William did not release the item to her, not yet, "Use your thumbs, girl. They will give you a better grip."

...Thumbs? What were thumbs? Were they the stubby, thicker ones? Ember wasn't entirely sure how to use those...

"...Here." William offered his aid by adjusting Ember's fingers to properly support and hold the bowl, all the while using his free hand to actually hold the dish should the woman not have the proper hold on it.

Ember merely watched as the man adjusted her fingers and thumbs. She would have expected the way he moved the stubby ones, that it would hurt, or he would break them, since she did not have these so called thumbs as a dragon...but it did not hurt. It was just odd and confusing to control and grip with these strange fingers called thumbs. Why were humans so odd and strange? It was in her musings that Ember realized how much larger William's fingers were compared to hers. They were massive! At least twice the size!

Ember wondered if Silas' were-

...Silas.

Ember forgot in all her confused thoughts, that her friend was gone. She just now remembered.

And the last words she ever spoke to him, were an insult.

She called him a foolish, selfish bastard.

And then he died.

She was sad, and angry at him.

And then he died.

Ember wished she didn't say those mean things.

She didn't mean it...She just didn't want her human friend to die.

But he did.

Ember took her time to briefly look around the area. Much of the town was ruined, and would need repairs. Parts of the castle were crumbled and ruined, stone singed with dragon fire. Bodies of the dead were being collected and identified, as well as being prepared for funerals. The scent of burnt flesh and smoke, and the iron of blood wafted into the air, being cast askew into the grey skies as vultures circled near in slow, lazy loops. Against the somber sky, the bell tolled from the church, announcing yet another death. The clergy were out and about, attempting to calm their flock and offer confessions to the dying.

Ember decided it would be less depressing if she focused upon the food before her, William finally releasing his hold of the dish upon dubbing the woman's grip strong enough.

She wasn't hungry.

But she was.

She felt like vomiting.

But she also felt like eating.

Ember wasn't sure what the strange object was within the greenish liquid that lightly simmered in the cool winds, but she decided to leave it be for now. She did not register that the Duke had wandered off somewhere-perhaps to aid his human soldiers?-Ember guessed, as she lowered her head towards the bowl. The odd woman sniffed the bowl, nostrils flaring. She wasn't sure what this soup was. She knew Silas and the other talked about it, and ate it, so she figured it was probably good. Probably.

Extending her tongue, Ember took an experimental lap at the both. It was warm! And it tasted funny! Ember wasn't sure how she felt about it. It wasn't what she was used to. It wasn't meat...or water...But she was hungry...

Much like a feline, the pink haired woman began to lap at the soup, and found it was quite difficult to keep the liquid long enough to get to her mouth that it would her draconic tongue. Why were these aliens so...not good at eating? It wasn't like she could bite into this broth...or maybe she could? But it was hard enough without those stupid pink tuffs of...fur? Straw? Getting in the way.

Ember paused upon feeling a pair of eyes upon her. Raising her head, the dragon turned human spotted a man, staring upon her oddly, a look of perplexity upon his features at witnessing such a queer behavior.

Upon seeing the man, Ember only smiled, "Hewwo!" The woman called in greeting, soup spraying out of her mouth and spilling down her chin, "...Opps."

...And this that, the man decided to take his leave of the odd, pink haired, soup lapping woman.

...Oh. Okay, then. Ember figured the man just didn't want to talk or got shy. Tee-hee!

It was them William approached, cloak in hand, "Here. Give me the soup. Put this on. And hide your hair." The Duke spoke, offering the dull cloth to the woman upon taking the bowl.

Ember was dumbfounded upon finding the attire within her hands. What was it?

"...Here. Give it to me. You just hold out both your arms so I can put it on you." William ordered gently, Ember doing as told. Huh...she didn't know her arms could bend that way...

This cloak thing felt weird! Why was it so heavy and clingy! She didn't want this cloak thing or this blanket thing on her! It didn't feel right! She wanted the wind upon her scales! Well...skin? Flesh? She guessed was the term, now...

Regardless, Ember turned towards her soup once more, hands clumsily taking it from William, who pushed the hood up to cover her head.

Ember simply huffed in annoyance, "Why do I need this stupid thing over my head?"

"Best to hide your hair, girl. It is not a natural color, and you may be suspected for being a witch." The Duke spoke, arms crossing over his chest briefly, before outstretching a hand to push the spoon towards the pink haired girl, "And use a spoon...it is better than your tongue."

"Mmmphmmm..." Ember groaned, a noise that sounded more from a stubborn teenager than a young adult, "I don't want to..."

...And she was stubborn. Good Lord...

William's beard molded into a stern frown, his thick brows narrowing. A burly hand then reached towards the spoon, the other, Embers hand, which he manipulated her fingers to grasp the length of the utensil.

Ember felt like a hatchling as her trembling hand needed to guided to her mouth in order to prevent any spill accidents. It was embarrassing, and she hated it. Stupid, monster body! Stupid ugly fingers and hands and weird creature body!

But as much as she hated to admit it...William was right about this spoon. It was much easier than her useless creature's tongue.

She still didn't want to say it.

What she was.

It was such a disgusting word to her, now.

Such a...useless, inferior thing.

Not good for much of anything.

She needed to find a way to get back to her old self.

Her draconic self.

Her beautiful self.

Flame may have saved her, but he also cursed her, too. Accidentally, Ember thought.

Flame would never do this to her intentionally.

And who knows what evils were in that breath of darkness that Malefor intended to kill her with.

Ember's thoughts were broken when she heard the Duke speak again, "I believe it is best we go inside the castle, Ember. Get you out of public eyes, for now."

The pink haired woman frowned as William took her bowl and spoon away for now, "I want to be normal..."

"I know. But for now, it is not safe. Come." The brunette beckoned, as if the woman were a young child. She could eat the rest of her broth later. Lord only knew she would need both her arms to steady herself whilst walking. With that, the middle aged man began to meander towards the entrance of the castle, his footfalls heavy and tired.

When he glanced a gander to check on Ember, he found the pink haired woman attempting to run on all fours like a dog.

...Lord, give him strength.

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**Thank you for reading and have a good day!**


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